TCP: The blood on my hands
by Turlock god of insanity
Summary: The Common People story. Anti-Mutant Terrorist comes to a decision and does something to try and clean his concisious.


Author-TURLOCK GOD OF INSANITY  
  
Title- [TCP] The blood on my hands  
  
Email-turlock@subreality.com  
  
"Words" talking  
  
_Emphasis_  
  
-Sound description-  
  
   
  
   
  
"No! Please No, I didn't..."  
  
   
  
-Gunshot-  
  
   
  
She was so young and scared and... innocent. The second he shot her I felt it. For the first time in a long time I felt it.  
  
   
  
Guilt.  
  
   
  
She didn't do anything. But I helped kill her.  
  
   
  
A thirteen year old girl.  
  
   
  
I didn't know what to say when he turned and looked at me _SMILING_  
  
   
  
He was _smiling_ how could he be smiling?!  
  
   
  
When he asked me if I was alright I could barely mutter out anything.  
  
   
  
I didn't know why all of a sudden I felt this way, but I couldn't let him in on it so I told him I had been trying to come down with a cold for a couple of days.  
  
   
  
He bought it.  
  
   
  
We left a short time later after 'cleaning' the room. Back at the warehouse I went to my room and lay thinking.  
  
   
  
Looking back at my life I had it all. I had friends and family that loved me. I got a good education. But I let fear control me.  
  
   
  
Fear of commitment cost me Denise.  
  
   
  
Fear of rejection cost me my promotion.  
  
   
  
Fear of death cost me my last moments with my parents.  
  
   
  
But worst of all Fear of 'them' cost me my soul.  
  
   
  
Mutants.  
  
   
  
Only a couple of genes different and we hate them.  
  
   
  
It used to be so easy to give into the hate.  
  
   
  
The monsters, so dangerous and evil.  
  
   
  
They could be living next door and you would never know... until its too late.  
  
   
  
Muties.  
  
   
  
It all seemed so stupid now.  
  
   
  
No, not stupid... sick.  
  
   
  
I could almost feel the blood on my hands.  
  
   
  
Almost taste it in my mouth.  
  
   
  
So many dead.  
  
   
  
I couldn't even say I never pulled the trigger.  
  
   
  
I looked over and saw my tiny gold cross on my dresser and nearly burst out laughing.  
  
   
  
There was no saving my soul, I had too much blood on my hands.  
  
   
  
The next day I woke up to Greg's voice yelling at me to get up.  
  
   
  
But my fear controlled me again, I went with them.  
  
   
  
I stood behind them barely able to breathe.  
  
   
  
She was backed up into a corner, terrified.  
  
   
  
I heard one of them chuckle.  
  
   
  
He found it _funny_.  
  
   
  
This innocent girls terror was _FUNNY_ to him.  
  
   
  
That fact began to eat at me.  
  
   
  
She was so scared.  
  
   
  
I looked into her eyes.  
  
   
  
Fear.  
  
   
  
I could feel the anger build up in me.  
  
   
  
He raised the gun.  
  
   
  
I grabbed his head and snapped his neck.  
  
   
  
I looked in her eyes again and saw horror, and a glimmer of hope.  
  
   
  
The other two looked at me and each other in shock.  
  
   
  
She used the opportunity and escaped.  
  
   
  
They didn't even notice her leaving.  
  
   
  
I lunged at one of them.  
  
   
  
I felt my bones break as they beat me.  
  
   
  
I saw their backs as they left me alone in the abandoned building.  
  
   
  
After what seemed like an eternity, she came back.  
  
   
  
She was crying beside me as she tried to help.  
  
   
  
I wanted to tell her to leave but I couldn't.  
  
   
  
I stared at her for hours.  
  
   
  
Those eyes that had been filled with fear were now filled with concern.  
  
   
  
I didn't deserve it.  
  
   
  
Sometimes I'm still not sure if I do.  
  
   
  
She looks so beautiful in the moonlight.  
  
   
  
I can still remember seeing her face when I woke up in the hospital.  
  
   
  
It was days before I could talk, and tell her to leave.  
  
   
  
It took me telling her everything to get her to leave.  
  
   
  
I sometimes wonder why I'm not burning in hell for my crimes.  
  
   
  
For all the sins I've committed I should be.  
  
   
  
But I'm not, maybe I will someday but I'm sitting in this wheelchair looking at her sitting on our couch.  
  
   
  
I don't deserve her forgiveness.  
  
   
  
She looks at me and smiles.  
  
   
  
Her eyes are filled with love when she hands me the box.  
  
   
  
Inside is a tiny gold cross on a chain.  
  
   
  
And for the first time in a long time I feel it.  
  
   
  
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